


Unforgettable

by commonhouseplant



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Blood and Violence, Child Abandonment, Dreams and Nightmares, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual time skip, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Friendship, Healing Magic, Herbalism, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s), Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Magical Bond, Male-Female Friendship, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Mercenaries, Mercenary Lucio (The Arcana), Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Nature, Nature Magic, Non-Graphic Smut, Romantic Friendship, Sarcasm, Serious Injuries, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Swordfighting, Time Skips, Unrequited Love, Visions, lucio is a hoe, so is julian but lowkey, the arcana - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commonhouseplant/pseuds/commonhouseplant
Summary: Four years ago, Lucio had left his warlike tribe after failing to overthrow his parents and take control for himself. Now, he works as a mercenary, drinking, screwing and fighting his way around the country, hoping one day to rule as the Count of Vesuvia. But a simple stab wound is holding him back, becoming increasingly worse over time. So, to heal himself and cheat death, he hunts for the only thing that can save him; magic.(Y/n) is a magician pained by a disheartening past. Blaming herself for her master's death, she exiles herself to the forest, where she lives untouched from the outside world. But when a sudden self-centered, loud-mouthed mercenary captain finds his way into her forest, she decides to help him, rather than listen to his groaning every night.This would be the beginning of an unlikely friendship, which could possibly lead to something more...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic uploaded to AO3. I hope you guys like it!

The tavern was dimly lit, the candles lining the walls flickered shadows across the room. The brick was sturdy, cracked and chipped from years of ware. Thick wooden beams paralleled above, adorned with round metal chandeliers. The floorboards creaked with every odd step and every stool and table had seen better days. 

Full of drunkards and dancers and lovers alike, it was a small, but homey space. A modest band stage was set up close to the back of the pub, where a four-man quartet played a Vesuvian folk song. The music mingled with clinking glasses, heavy footfalls and jovial conversation, created a symphony like no other.

This was Lucio’s scene. He’d always loved a good party, and what better place to celebrate than a busy pub after dark? Every aspect was intoxicating, from the warmth of everybody to the seductive low lighting to the folks who shared his sentiment. 

Also, because he loved to drink, and boy, could he drink! There had been plenty of occasions during his travels where he’d had one drink too many, and leaped from table to table, recalling his most epic sword fights to adoring crowds. He’d also once led a whole pub full of piss drunk partiers through town, bar hopping, laughing and vomiting all night long (although, his memory of that night was still hazy). 

But tonight, he’d chosen to blend into the crowd of mercenaries and local patrons, rather than take his usual place as the life of the party. Instead of leading his men into a drunken bliss, Lucio had seated himself in the emptier part of the pub, alone at a table for two. His only companions were his golden helmet and busy mind. He raised his arm and snapped, grabbing the attention of a youthful barmaid. She scurried over, and he ordered a pint of beer. With a curt nod, she was off. 

God, Lucio needed this drink. He couldn’t remember the last time some part of his body didn’t hurt for one reason or another. Heh, he sounded like some old man.

The pretty little barmaid returned, placing his sweating pint before him with a welcoming smile, before turning on her heels in a flurry of skirt. He watched her leave as he took a long, much-needed sip of his first beer of the night. 

Earlier that day, he and his men had collected a handsome payment from a noble of the remote town they were currently residing in. It had been a simple intimidation job, nothing too intense. The owner of a successful business in town recently experienced a decline in sales due to a new competitor opening shop. So, to rid himself of such rivalry, he’d hired Lucio and his trusted mercenaries to… take care of this problem. For a small fortune of course. With the payment received, Lucio and his men had found a local pub, intent on celebrating yet another job well done. 

He turned his body to look out the window, where he had a clear view of the street before him. It was lit by shop windows, where figures seemed to stumble over cobblestones, appearing and disappearing through streams of golden candlelight. He raised his pint from the table, where it sat beside his golden helmet, and brought it to his lips. Lucio drank slowly, letting the cold and bitter liquid warm his insides. The beer left a mild, slightly yeasty taste in his mouth, and he held back from chugging the entire pint. He needed to keep his wits about him tonight and dull the red-hot pain that throbbed within his left shoulder. 

Little over a month prior the mercenaries had taken on a rather labor-intensive request. They’d been hired to drive out a group of pirates that had been taking advantage of a small fishing village in the west. The mayor of said village, whose name Lucio didn’t care to remember, had promised quite the reward for such a heroic deed. But the mayor had left out a crucial detail; he hadn’t informed them of just how many pirates they’d be dealing with. The fight had lasted longer than intended, with most of the pirates captured or dead. Although they had succeeded, it wasn’t without casualties. After all, pirates have never been known to fight fair. 

A few men were lucky to remain unharmed, but the majority received wounds they’d need to nurse for months ahead. Lucio himself was among that unfortunate group. He let his left arm rest on the wooden surface of the table, easing the pressure from the bandaged stab wound in his shoulder. He’d let himself get a bit too cocky as he sparred with the pirate captain and obtained such injury as punishment. He knew it would leave a plush, pink scar in its wake, but it wouldn’t be alien to the rest of his body. He’d amassed quite the impressive collection over the years. However, it wasn’t the scarring that worried him; it was the healing process itself. Or rather, the length of it. The longer he had to sit by idly, waiting for it to heal, the more casualties would pile up. He hated to see his men hurt.

Lucio took another languid sip from his pint, silver eyes examining the room. His men were in several different stages of celebration, with some still clinging to the brink of sobriety, arms wrapped around local girls. They showed off their shiny helmets and swords, which earned impressed affirmation. Others sat at the bar, clapping slightly offbeat to an old Vesuvian jig played by the small band. More than a few were absolute inebriated messes, barely able to stand on their own as they headed out the back door to vomit into the alley. None of this was out of the ordinary. The life of a traveling mercenary had always been one of excitement. 

Lucio’s gaze then found a familiar figure seated at the bar. The tall, lean figure sat slightly hunched over on his rickety stool. His face was turned towards the backdoor as he held a cup and saucer, shaking his head disapprovingly at the sounds of rising bile. The puffed sleeves of his shirt gave his body the illusion of a larger build and he seemed to have discarded his helmet. Almost as if he’d felt the eyes on his back, the man turned his gaze to look behind, his profile a pale complexion. He met Lucio’s eyes, and with a smirk, he lifted himself from the bar stool and made his way to the lonely table, cup and saucer in hand. His long legs made quick work of crossing the pub.

“Care for some company, old man?” he asked Lucio, setting down his half-full cup of coffee. He pulled up a chair from a nearby table at sat across from his superior, the chair creaking as it adjusted to his weight.

Julian Devorak was a combat medic that had the unfortunate luck of being drafted into Lucio’s tribe of mercenaries. It had been during one of their business ventures in Prakra, where the two had met. Julian left his family in his hometown of Nevivon to study medicine in Prakra. There, he received and accepted an offer from Lucio to work as his (albeit unlicensed) doctor. Although he’d never been formally taught, Julian garnered plenty of experience over the years as he patched up the soldiers for hire. He was an intelligent man blessed with a beautiful face and almost an absolute gentleman. 

“You’re the only man I know who’d stay sober in a pub full of women and booze,” said Lucio, chuckling into his pint and shaking his head. The sweat from the cool glass left wet rings on their wooden table.

“Well I am the doctor,” Julian countered, “and I figured it’d be a shit show tomorrow morning if the man whose duty is to cure all these hangovers is hungover himself. It’s rather hard to treat my patients if I can’t even see what I’m giving them.” He followed his statement with a sip of his coffee, his body naturally leaning forward. 

“You’ve got me there, Jules,” Lucio admitted lamely. Lately, he felt drained, barely able to sleep at night of the pain. It’d been taking a toll on him, and you could see it on his face. The bags under his eyes and his ashen complexion had him avoiding every mirror in sight. It was a tragedy.

As if on cue, a sharp pain emerged from underneath his bandaged shoulder. 

“Is your shoulder bugging you again?” Julian asked

“It hasn’t stopped bugging me,” Lucio replied tightly. 

“Well, it is quite fresh. It’ll need time to rest, a few months at least.” 

“You know better than anyone I don’t have time to rest, Jules.” 

“Should’ve been more careful then,” Julian said coolly, finishing off his coffee. He felt the silver glare from across the table and feigned ignorance, turning from Lucio to wave down a barmaid for another. Lucio watched as the waitress approached, tucking her service tray under her arm. Julian asked for another coffee, his fingers deliberately brushing against the young woman’s own as he handed her his empty cup. She turned, red-faced and nervous to Lucio, who tilted his head back to chug the rest of his ale. the heavy glass resounded on the table as he set it down. He ordered two more.

As she left, Lucio caught Julian’s eyes follow her retreating form. Resting his chin in his hand, Julian hummed with interest.

“You’re a sly dog, Jules,” Lucio said crossing his legs, “that poor girl has no clue what she’s in for.”  
Julian scoffed, turning to his Captain. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” 

Lucio rolled his eyes at his right-hand man. “At least I skip all the stupid schmoozing. Makes it easier in the morning.”

A bundle of nerves, the barmaid returned, nearly spilling the three drinks as she approached the table. She set the two beers in front of Lucio, barely glancing his way, before handing Julian his coffee with the utmost of care.

“Thank you, my dear,” he purred, rewarding her efforts with a charming smile. She returned his smile happily, like a dog being praised by its master. Julian craned his neck to whisper into her ear, and Lucio watched as the barmaid’s slight blush turned a deep crimson. He could only imagine what kind of romantic garbage he was filling her mind with. He took a pint in hand and drank deeply, fighting his urge to vomit.  
Julian kissed the girl’s cheek with flirtatious intent. She returned to the bar in a lovestruck daze, barely missing a stumbling drunk fall into a stool behind her. His eyes roamed her body. 

“You’re a filthy bastard, you know that?”

Julian turned, feigning innocence. “I’m a complete gentleman!” he exclaimed, dramatically putting his hand on his chest. “Can I not enjoy the company of a beautiful woman?”

‘Is that what they’re calling it these days?”, said Lucio. “I really am an old man.”

“You’re just jealous because you can’t screw around with that banged up shoulder of yours, and it's your own damn fault.” 

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“Well then, who’s fault is it?” 

“The filthy pirate captain’s, that’s who!”

Julian raised an eyebrow, ‘How is this his fault, exactly?” he asked.

“HE SHOULDN’T HAVE STABBED ME!” 

“You shouldn’t have been showboating.” 

Lucio stood.

“I DON’T SHOWBOAT!” he roared, slamming his good fist onto the table in frustration. The vibrations made his helmet jump, and Julian’s coffee cup chatter on its saucer. Julian, however, was completely unfazed.

“If you say so,” Julian sighed, sounding unconvinced. Lucio huffed, his attention turning to the room. Unsurprisingly, his outburst had received little attention, as most of the men were invested in a tense arm-wrestling match between Lucio’s lieutenant and the barkeep. He felt the angry throbbing return to his shoulder and grimaced in pain as he fell back into his chair. Julian drank his coffee, pushing a half-empty pint towards his counterpart, who drained the glass.

“You’re a handful, aren’t you?” Julian teased.

Lucio reached for his other beer, his head beginning to fog. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying the ambiance of the tavern. Occasionally, Julian would turn towards the bar, watching and winking at the young waitress. Lucio, slowly slipping into drunkenness, could tell she’d fallen victim to the man’s charm and dreaded going back to the inn. He had no doubt that screams of passion would emanate from Julian’s room that night, making it impossible for him to sleep. Payback for all the times the roles had been reversed, Lucio has supposed. 

Bastard.

So, to get a good night's rest, Lucio ordered himself more drinks. He hardly noticed the pub emptying as the night turned to early morning, downing drink after drink after drink. Somehow, he hoped that the copious amount of alcohol would provide a genius plan to rid him of his literal burden to shoulder. But the lighter his head became, the less he seemed to think. 

“If only the damn thing could heal itself,” he muttered into a glass, “like magic.” 

He stood too fast, head swimming and falling forward before he caught himself on the wall. When did he bring two helmets? The room was spinning, and his stomach was churning, and he really wanted to sleep, but one thing stood clear in his mind. 

Magic. 

“That’s it!” he cried, words slurring together. He doubled over, laughing triumphantly. He hadn’t even noticed that Julian had left, bracing himself with his chair. No doubt it was a far-fetched idea, but he was willing to take the chance. He felt a sudden adrenaline rush as if he could take on the world. It all was fitting into place!

He then vomited all over the table, before passing out onto the pub floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and kudos!!


	2. Our Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our lovely (Y/n), and she meets Lucio... kind of.

The door creaked as (Y/n) walked in, the tiny bell above announcing her arrival. The owner of the small herbal shop stood behind the counter; attention turned momentarily from the client before him towards the door. He was a burly man with olive skin, his hair greying. At the sight of her, he smiled.  
“Feel free to look around,” he said with a hoarse voice, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

She nodded and began to wander the store, the sounds of selling filling the room. It was bright, with much natural light flowing in through the windows from the front. Two large tables sat against the wall opposite to the counter, their surfaces covered with many wooden buckets of exotic herbs and spices. Bouquets of various types of flowers were tied by their stems and hung from the ceiling to dry. A bookcase that nearly grazed the ceiling of the shop sat against the back wall, filled almost to the brim with books. (Y/n) read the spines as she browsed. The Complete Guide to Holistic Herbalism. The Sacred Art of Plant Medicine. Illustrated Herbology. The list went on. 

Beside this bookshelf was a large basket of silks. She lowered herself in front of the basket, removing her hemp satchel and placing it beside her. Crouching as she looked through the supple fabrics, her hands felt rough against the silks and satins she dug through. A sea of vibrant colors and patterns, (Y/n) searched, pulling a soft, pale yellow fabric from the bottom of the woven basket. It was simple, just one solid color, and was the perfect size for a handkerchief. It was a good replacement for the last one she’d lost. She stood, retrieving her satchel from the floor and folded the cloth as the bell chimed the exit of the previous customer. She heard the shopkeeper walk towards her from behind the counter, his eyes landing on the fabric.

“Ah, a fine choice!” he said to her with a smile. He was an older gentleman, and as he smiled, his eyes crinkled, which gave him a welcoming presence. “How may I be of service today, young lady?”

She returned his smile with her own, placing the yellow fabric onto the counter. “I’m in need of a few things, actually,” she said, “if you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Of course not!” the shopkeeper laughed deep and jollily, “What can I get for you?”

(Y/n) reached into her satchel, rummaging around noisily before pulling a round metal container from the bag. She handed it to the older man sheepishly. “You don’t happen to carry cow fat, do you? I already tried the butcher, but he brushed me off.”

“Tallow?”, he asked, eyebrows raised questioningly, “What do you plan on making with that?”

“A healing salve”, she replied, gaze shifting to the counter, “for wounds.”

“Ohh,” the man said, thinking for a moment. He then turned, searching the shelves that lined the walls behind him. Jars and bottles of every shape and size sat neatly, and he scanned them for a moment, before vanishing underneath the counter. (Y/n) waited a few moments, listening to the sound of glass clinking and clanging as he rummaged around. She examined the wooden shelves behind the shopkeep as she waited. Each was filled with all kinds of crystals and candles with endless uses and possibilities. Most of which (Y/n) recognized from her childhood. A pang of grief filled her chest. 

“AHA!” exclaimed the shopkeep, unexpectedly rising from beneath the counter, causing (Y/n) to jump slightly in surprise. He stood before her, proudly displaying a large glass jar filled with white tallow. Setting it down with a THUNK, he removed the lid of the jar of fat, and with a spoon, began filling the metal container. He looked at her.

“So,” he began, curious, “what kind of salve were you thinking? Yarrow? Goldenrod? I received an import of dried Calendula this morning from Milova.”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Knit bone.” She watched him smooth the tallow into her container. His hands were wrinkled, and sun spotted, similarly to his face, but they worked quickly and gracefully. Her eyes caught the glint of the golden band on his left hand. 

“Knit bone, huh?” he said, “Must be one hell of an injury!” 

She sighed, leaning on the counter slightly. “Believe me, it is.”

“Are you doing alright?” He asked with slight concern.

“Huh?” she said, confused. (Y/n) looked at him, only to see he mirrored her expression, greying eyebrows knit. What does he-? She thought, before realizing what he meant. Oh.

She waved her hands dismissively, chuckling with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” she quickly reassured him, “this isn’t for me.”

“Ah, I see,” he said, seemingly relieved by her clarification. He packed down the last spoonful of fat, before putting the lid back on. He put the container on the counter before bending down and stowing the tallow jar away.

“Then I assume you’re an apothecary?’

She shook her head. “Not an apothecary, per se. More like… a healer?”

He nodded. “A friend of yours?” he asked.

She sighed, looking wistfully out the window. “Something like that.”

*****

(Y/n) waved to the old herbalist before leaving his shop, thanking him on her way out. He’d been very helpful, sending her off with the tallow, a small bottle of peppermint oil, the yellow cloth, a bottle of almond oil, and a vial of liquid knit bone. He’d even given her a discount on the cloth, saying that she’d been good company. He said she reminded him of his late wife, who’d also been a healer. She didn’t bother telling him what she really was.

With all her supplies gathered, (Y/n) began her walk out of the town. She had spent a while in the shop, for the sun was beginning to turn the sky a dusty pink, orange streaks intermingled with the blue horizon. People bustled past her as the busy marketplace began to settle down, probably on their way home for the night. Vendors had lost their enthusiasm, too tired to insist on the crowd of their reasonable prices and great products for sale. Children weaved through, giggling and chasing each other home. Every person was different, and each had a story to tell. (Y/n) enjoyed going into town, feeling the warmth and happiness surrounded by the sheer amount of life. For a short while, she didn’t feel so alone.

By the time she’d reached the town’s edge, the sun had already set. She walked along the gravel road, feeling the stones beneath her sandals as she made her way home, passing sprawling fields of green. It was a quiet night, the sounds of the city fading behind her as she treaded deeper and deeper into open land. There was hardly any traffic, aside from a carriage of nobles that had passed her, curiously peeking through their tiny window as she grew smaller and smaller within the frame. (Y/n) wondered if they’d come to the city to see a play, or maybe eat at a fancy restaurant. Maybe they’d ordered some sort of ridiculously big hat and had to retrieve it for some lavish party they’d go to tonight. She envisioned it would be with a lacy brim and a whole bird’s worth of feathers on it, and one giant feather sprouting from the top. She laughed to herself, imagining the sort of woman who would wear such a hat.

The road began to curve near a forest as if urging travelers to stay clear of the bush. (Y/n) walked past the road and into the grass, her feet tickled by the blades as she made her way towards the trees and into the forest. She expertly stepped over fallen logs and tree roots as she made her way through the lush, green leaves, pleasantly surprised by the number of wildflowers that had bloomed that year. She’d have plenty for teamaking.Soon enough, it had become night as she came upon a small empty clearing. (Y/n) stopped, eyes searching for a familiar tree in the dark. A sturdy oak tree towered over her, its branches providing camouflage from the outside world. On the trunk of the tree was a symbol carved into the wood; a simple pentacle, protecting her home from the outside. She took a deep breath before placing a palm onto the symbol. It glowed, illuminating her face as she felt a comforting heat underneath her hand. She caught sight of the clearing ripple before her, like waves on a shore, before the façade fell, revealing what truly lied beyond the magic.

Her home. Or a hut, really. It was small and wooden, with windows on either side of a rounded door. The roof was covered in moss, having been slowly dominated by the spore over the years. A flowerbox clung to the window, bold white daisies sprouting proudly from the dirt. Although it was hidden from the normal world, (Y/n) kept it locked for safety. She felt her pants pockets and produced a key, fitting it into the lock on the door. She twisted and it clicked, pushing the door open as she let herself in. She locked it behind her as well, before she began removing her sandals.

Although it looked small from the outside, the hut was quite roomy. Beside the door was a hook, where (Y/n) kept a cloak for when she needed to venture out at night. The right wall was a small kitchen, with only a few cupboards, a counter, a washbasin, and a coal stove. To the left was a set of wooden chairs and a table big enough for two, with a small clay bowl on top that held various fruits. Past the kitchen area was a ladder, which led upwards to a small loft covered in many pillows and blankets of every size and color imaginable. Underneath was a rug, with two large sitting pillows and a low table. With a snap of her fingers, various lanterns scattered throughout the hut lit up, filling the room with warm yellow light.

She shrugged off her satchel, placing it on the counter and unloading the contents. She took the tallow and liquid Knit bone and placed it near the stovetop. (Y/n) opened the door of the stove and stirred the coals before grabbing a log from a pile beside it. She placed the wood in gently, hovering a hand above it. It sputtered and crackled before it came to life in a burst of flame. She shut the door and retrieved a pot from overhead, before getting down to work creating the salve.

It was a simple recipe, taught to her by her Nan. It was one-part tallow, one-part beeswax, and a whole vial of knit bone. After it mixed and melted, she poured it into yet another metal container to cool and harden. With the residual heat of the stove, she made herself a chamomile tea. She sat at the table, drink in hand, listening to the soothing noises of nighttime nature through an open window. The owls were hooting, the crickets were chirping, and the frogs were croaking. Yep, it was just another normal nigh-

" **Uuuuuaaaagghh** ," moaned a voice.

(Y/n) froze. _Not again._

“ **UUuUaaagGHHH** ,” it moaned again.

She stood, setting her cup on the table and moved closer to the window. Whoever it was sounded pained, the voice hoarse. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen any people out here, if ever. That was the reason she’d picked this place, so people couldn’t find her and pester her for help. So, when she’d heard the groaning two nights before, she hadn’t paid it any mind. But it didn’t stop.

“ **Uuuuargh** ,” the voice moaned a third time.

(Y/n) could hear the anguish, but she’d learned her lesson when it came to helping people. _Never again_ , she thought. _Never again_. She decided to ignore the voice once again, instead puttering about her hut before climbing into bed. She discarded all her clothes except her shirt, the oversized pale green tunic becoming a comfy night gown. She fluffed up a few pillows and snuggled into her blankets. She snapped her fingers, and the room was pitch black aside from the moonlight. She’d only noticed the voice had stopped as her eyes drifted shut. 

*****

The peace didn’t last for long. In fact, she’d just drifted off again when the voice had woken her up a third time, each louder and more desperate of a cry than the last. This time around, she’d had enough. Grumpily, she threw her blankets aside, climbing down and grumbling to herself. She dressed once more, this time donning the dark cloak by the door. Whatever was crying out was obviously hurt, so she emptied her satchel and packed a few things. Scissors, some herbs, a cloth, a canteen of water and the knit bone salve. As she exited the hut, she grabbed a small lantern, listening to the voice as it practically called out for her. She followed it with light feet, already feeling like she’d made a terrible decision.

*****

She extinguished the warm light of her lantern as she neared a clearing. The groaning led (Y/n) a rounded glade, trees bending their branches to create a natural canopy. The plush grass and clover were littered with many round tents, each of their coned roofs reaching towards the stars. 

She walked carefully, tiptoeing around each tent as she listened for the telltale moan of pain she’d been following. The sleeping occupants had squashed their lantern flames, so she moved about guided solely by moonlight. The hood of her cloak wasn’t helping either, falling forward slightly and obscuring her face, along with her vision. 

“ **Euuuuuagghh** ,” she heard the voice groan. She was only a few tents away, weaving quickly around the canvas cabanas when she heard rustling from within one next to her. (Y/n) ducked behind the back of the said tent, holding her breath as a portly, half-naked man walked out. She watched as he headed towards the clearing edge, yawning with one hand and scratching his behind with the other. She stifled a laugh as the man left to relieve himself. When he’d turned his back, she left.

The shelter responsible for resounding such anguish was slightly larger than the others. Rather than the usual creamy white of the canvas, this one was a deep and regal red, obviously establishing the status of the person sleeping fitfully inside. Gods, she hoped they were sleeping. How awkward this would be if they weren’t.

Cautiously, (Y/n) pulled the flap back, letting moonlight pool in. A bout of heat escaped as she peered inside. A man slept on his back, illuminated by the night sky. He wore only pants, his body slick with sweat. As she approached him tentatively, she heard his rasping breaths. The tent stank badly of body odor and (Y/n) felt herself begin to perspire under her cloak from the warmth. 

It was complete darkness, save for a sliver of glowing light streaming in from the doorway. She lit the lantern, careful to only conjure a small flame. It was barely a wisp of light, but enough for (Y/n) to get a good look at her patient. 

He was handsome, with sharp, masculine features. His face was pale, cheeks slightly pink from sickness. Blond hair clung to his forehead, as black eyebrows furrowed in discomfort. He looked a few years older than her, his body broad and muscular. She noticed the blanket he slept on was soaked, the poor bastard. The shoulder closest to her was wrapped with a bandage. (Y/n) was gentle as she peeled back the layers of cloth. At the slightest movement, the man’s body would jerk. He let out a quieter groan as the pressure eased, strips of soiled bandages forming a small mound beside him. As she removed the last layer, she winced at the sight. 

The gash was small, a few inches wide at most. But the skin surrounding it was red, oozing with infection. It was an angry-looking wound, obviously irritated from a lack of rest. (Y/n) quietly fished about her satchel, blindly searching for the water and cloth she’d brought. Mindful not to wake him, she wet the cloth and wiped his wound. Afterward, she reached into her bag, putting back the water and cloth for the salve she’d made earlier. As she did so, the man stirred. She froze, waiting for him to settle. He mumbled incoherently between breaths, body tense, before he relaxed, still fast asleep. (Y/n) sighed in relief. 

Finally, she felt the cool metal in her palm. She popped the lid off, careful to be silent, before scooping a large green portion from the tin. Slowly she smeared the salve onto the wound, holding her breath as the man beneath her hissed at the sensation against his skin. His face scrunched at first, but she felt pride as his whole body seemed to melt into complete, pain-free slumber. Those thick, angular brows eased, his face appearing younger. He still breathed shallowly, but much more steadily than before. She smiled at her handiwork, wiping her fingers on his bicep. 

She pulled a small bundle of wild calendula leaves from her pocket and placed them lightly atop the salve. She’d stopped to pick them on the way there, a firm believer in fresh ingredients. All done, she thought, raising her hand for the finishing touch. But something wasn’t right-

She’d forgotten the bandage. _Damn it_ , she thought, rising from her seat. Quietly, she slipped out of the tent and moved from shelter to shelter in search. She passed a larger tent, poking her head inside. A man slept on a cot, half-naked like every other. His back was towards her, and she entered his tent. It was obviously a medical tent, complete with an open trunk filled with various bottles and jars of this and that. A chair sat by the door, a dark stained apron hanging off the back. And on the chair was… Bandages! 

(Y/n) grabbed a roll, glancing back to make sure her company was still asleep. Indeed, he was. She made her way back to her “patient”, slipping back into his tent. 

(Y/n) skillfully rewrapped his shoulder with a roll of stolen bandage, making sure to take extra care. She tied it off, hovering a hand overtop. Closing her eyes, she felt the magic pulse through her body and down her arm. It leaped from her fingertips and into his shoulder, humming of warmth. Not a moment later, she sat back, opening her eyes and looking down at him. That old shopkeep was close. She wasn’t an apothecary. No, she was a magician.

Already, he looked much better. She placed a hand on his forehead. His fever would break overnight if he slept properly. Satisfied, (Y/n) stood. She extinguished her lantern, beginning to leave. Before stepping out of the tent, she gave one last look behind her. He would be fine in a few days time if he kept her remedy on. Knit bone was famously known for soothing even the worst irritation and infection, while the calendula would kill any unhealthy bacteria. She’d used these methods before, and they’d never failed her. 

Well, almost never. 

(Y/n) slipped out of the cabana and into the night, gone as quickly as she came. Tiredness made her eyelids droop as she weaved through the forest on her way home. A single firefly emerged from a small plant that she’d accidentally disturbed. It glowed a gorgeous green light, seemingly guiding her back to her sanctuary. As they walked through the bush, more of the beautiful little bugs began to shine for her. The whole forest seemed to be alit with the delicate luminescence of nature. The wildflowers and dewdrops glowed as well, warming (Y/n)’s heart. A small smile found its way to her lips as she trekked on, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, chirping crickets, and the breeze through the treetops. A yawn escaped her. 

It was a wonderful place to live.

(Y/n) hoped she’d never leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and kudos!!


	3. Gooey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio finds the surprise left by the magician...

_“Mama!”_

__

_A young Lucio called after his mother, stumbling through the snow to match her pace. His panting breath swirled as puffs of white cloud, dissipating into the frigid air. They were trudging through the forest in the dead of winter. As always, Morga walked confidently, striding through the snow as if it wasn’t even there._

__

_“Mama!” he called again, almost tripping over his own, tiny feet. When she ignored him and continued onwards, he pouted. She never waited for him. Even though he was just a child, Morga believed in the philosophy of tough love. Lucio needed to rely on himself to be strong, but even so, he still craved his mother’s attention._

__

_The distance between them was growing. Lucio clenched his hands and pulled every ounce of strength he had in his small body to propel himself forward. He ran as fast as he could, almost catching up, gloved hand outstretched to grasp his mother’s cloak. But as his moleskin covered fingertips brushed the material, his foot became hooked on a tree branch buried deep in the snow. He fell forwards, every inch of his body covered in the cold. It was a shocking sensation that left him stunned completely. He sat upon his knees, uncaring of the ice melting onto his skin and clothes. He then began to wail._

__

_“MAMAAAAA!” He cried, childish and tired and frustrated. In all his life, Morga has never offered him comfort. She believed such a thing was what made boys weak. So, it was strange for her to turn at the sound of her son. He barely heard her footsteps over his own crying, crunching snow beneath her boots as she stood before him. He opened his tear-filled eyes to look up at his mother, who remained as stoic as ever._

__

_Silently, he stood up to face his mother properly, still crying. She towered over him, watching as he wiped away stray tears from his young eyes. For a long moment, she said nothing, just watching the boy struggle with his emotions. But then she saw the red and puffiness of his eyes and sighed with disappointment._

__

_“Montag,” she said, voice laced with disappointment. “You useless boy. You definitely take after your father.”_

__

_His lower lip trembled from the cold. He hung his head in shame, cheeks burning. And then his mother pulled one of the many layers of fur off her back and wrapped it around Monty. He stopped crying, looking up at his mother in surprise. He waited for her to speak, but just like before, she turned her back and started forward again. He followed her immediately. This time, however, he was able to keep up._

***** 

Lucio woke from the dream before the sun had risen, slowly fading into consciousness. Head pounding, he thought of his mother. _What the hell kind of dream was that?_

The tent was humid from his sweat, and locks of hair were stuck to his forehead. He breathed heavily, his body hot and aching, though it seemed slightly better than previous nights. His head spun as his nose was filled with the scent of his own perspiration and..... something strange. He shifted to a sitting position, trying to determine this alien smell. As he did, he moved his shoulder, which felt unusually... slimy?!

He looked to his shoulder in dark, his eyes barely making out the shape. Strange leaf-like shapes poked from underneath the bandage. Carefully, he unwrapped it, wincing slightly as it shifted against his wound. As he peeled back the bandages, he revealed a small patch of green leaves laying atop his healing wound. 

_WHAT THE-!?_ He thought, pulling back the leaves and throwing them into a pile, disgusted. He’d identified the slimy feeling; it wasn’t the leaves themselves but a paste underneath. It was creamy. He assumed it had been used to adhere the leaves onto his skin. It diffused a strangely bitter and herbal scent into the air.

“JULES!” Lucio yelled, more confused than angry. He hardly noticed that he felt better than the day before. Stronger, even. 

Moments later the tent flap opened, revealing a groggy and disoriented Julian. He stood in the doorway, barely wearing his shirt. He brought a hand to his mouth and covered a yawn. 

“You called?” Julian asked with sleepy sarcasm. The early morning glow illuminated the dark tent, along with the lantern he held in his hand. Lucio squinted, eyes adjusting to the light. He motioned to his shoulder, demanding an explanation for the strange occurrence. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” He cried to the doctor. Julian stepped into the tent, glancing at the injury in question. 

“That’s you’re fucked up shoulder, captain,” he said blatantly.

Lucio huffed with annoyance. “LOOK CLOSER,” he said, “WHAT’S WRONG WITH IT!” 

Julian leaned closer, rubbing his chin with his hand. Some auburn stubble was beginning to grow, which reminded him he’d have to shave afterward. 

“It seems you’ve been stabbed,” he said, standing straight again. He searched Lucio’s face, trying to figure out what in God’s name the man was doing at this hour. It was barely even daylight, and yet his antics had started. 

Lucio sat pitifully on the floor in front of him. In the warm lantern light, Julian could see his face beginning to redden with silent fury. It was taking every ounce of Lucio's self-control not to explode at his doctor and wake the camp, although, it seemed a little late for that. Julian braced himself for an onslaught of curse words. But instead, he merely heard a defeated sigh. 

Lucio was overcome with a wave of exhaustion, and even though he had more energy, there was still a long recovery ahead. If he recovered at all. He looked to Julian, his gaze a mixture of frustration and pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and pouting, he watched and waited for the doctor to move. 

Julian relented, placing the lantern down and leaving the tent for a moment. Lucio saw this and began to complain, but Julian returned as swiftly as he’d left. He’d retrieved a small bucket and washcloth from the medical tent. Crouching in front of his superior, he gently placed his hand on Lucio’s shoulder. He wet the washcloth and began wiping away the green goo. The intimacy of this interaction left the sensation of Lucio’s feverish breath on his neck.

Julian paused to place a hand on the latter’s forehead. Lucio still had a fever, but he was cooling down. 

“Oho? Getting hot over little old me?”

“You wish,” Lucio sneered. Julian chuckled, before continuing to disinfect the wound at work. As he uncovered the pink flesh underneath, his eyes widened in surprise. The night before, Lucio had Julian assist him with changing his bandages for the night. He remembered clearly how rough and ugly the skin was, red and still blotting blood and pus on the white wrappings. But now, the once irritated skin was left a dark pink, still open and bleeding, but it was healing. The infection he’d had prior seemed to have disappeared entirely. A month’s worth of rest and remedy hadn’t made this much progress as one night did. Julian was surprised, and skeptical. 

He thought for a moment. Craning his neck as he continued to disinfect, Julian looked over Lucio’s shoulder to the pile of wilted leaves that sat on the floor. 

“Where did you get those?” Julian asked. Lucio followed his gaze, remembering the state he’d found himself in that morning. 

“I found them this morning,” he said. “ON me. I don’t know what the hell they are, or what that green... shit is, but I do know that it smells like ass in here because of it!”

“You’re sure that isn’t just you?” Julian smirked, pleased with himself. 

“Har-har. Very funny Jules.” 

“Regardless of the smell, it does seem to have helped the healing process.”

Lucio snorted. “You’re kidding.”

Julian shrugged. “When have I ever lied to you?” He pulled a small compact mirror from his pants pocket, flipping it open and holding it so Lucio could see for himself. The reaction he’d elicited had been more than enough for him to know that his captain was recovering. 

“ **HOW THE HELL**?!” Lucio yelled; voice full of life again. Julian swore he felt his eardrums explode. 

****** 

Lucio couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t. It was now proper morning, the sun just beginning its journey through the sky. People were starting to wake up and mill about. Lucio was pacing back and forth in the medical tent, trying to understand the night before. 

How could one night make such a difference? What had he been doing differently than the previous nights? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

Julian had patched him up earlier, properly disinfecting and wrapping him up. Now, he was burdened by his superior’s innate pacing in the tent. Lucio had finally donned a shirt after much nagging from the doctor, who refused a “ticket to the gun show”. Back and forth he went, watching Julian sit atop his cot, tending to less life-threatening wounds on a fellow mercenary. 

The man had a bout of bad luck. A few nights prior, on their way to the clearing, they’d encountered a rabid coyote. The horses had been startled, but thankfully Lucio’s men had slaughtered the animal before it could do any harm. Unfortunately, that display seemed to make matters worse, a horse had bucked, and its rider had been thrown off like a sack of potatoes. The man had fallen and was winded, but thankfully received only a few cuts and bruises here and there. Said man winced as Julian disinfected the cuts with vodka and a small scrap cloth. Thin, pale fingers gently cleaned away any stubborn dirt from the flesh. He pulled his hands back from where he’d cleaned a cut on the man’s bicep. 

“There,” said Julian, corking the vodka bottle, “all finished. Don’t pick at them, let them scab over. It’ll be annoying, but better than nothing. You’re lucky I’m not setting any broken bones.”

The man examined his arms and legs, content with the treatment. He thanked Julian and shook his hand, before standing from the cot. He turned to leave, giving a respectful nod to Lucio. Lucio half-heartedly returned it, too busy with his own conspiracies. He heard a chuckle from beside him. 

“I knew you’d go mad one day, but I never believed it would be so soon.” 

Lucio scoffed, continuing his pacing. “I just don’t understand it!” he cried. 

“You’re complaining?” Julian asked, an arched brow inclined at the fervent Lucio. 

“N-no!” Lucio denied, his cheeks dusted with pink. “It’s just... don’t you think it’s strange? One night’s sleep and I’m practically _cured_?!”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Captain,” Julian said. “You’ve still got a week or two of recovery left at least.” He grabbed a cloth and wiped his hands. “But I agree. It’s quite strange.” 

“Someone had to have done this,” Lucio wondered aloud. “But who?” 

Julian watched Lucio pace back and forth, likely jumping to conclusions. “What makes you so keen on finding this person, hmm? This was obviously an act of kindness, yet you’re treating with such contempt.” 

Lucio stopped abruptly, turning to the doctor. “I don’t like being touched by strangers, that’s why!” he yelled, crossing his arms. “Especially the type that leave little gifts like that!” He then huffed, emphasizing his distaste. 

“I’ve never heard you complain about being touched before,” Julian chided, smirking at the annoyed groan he earned from Lucio. 

“You’re not listening, Jules!” Lucio whined, glaring at him. He sounded like a child, complaining to his mother. Sometimes it was so difficult to take him seriously. 

“Alright, alright,” Julian relented, hands up in surrender. “I’m merely suggesting that you consider this incident could be well-intentioned.” 

“Even so!” Lucio countered. “I’m still not okay with it!” 

“Then why don’t you set a trap?” Julain said.

A trap?

“How so?” He asked, intrigued. 

“Well,” Jules began, back turned to Lucio to stow away medical supplies in a trunk, “if this person shows up tonight trying to “poison” you, just pretend to be asleep and grab them when they show.” 

Lucio frowned; he hadn’t thought of that. 

“You expect me to do this alone? What if they try to kill me in my sleep?! That’s the least heroic way to die!”

Julian faced him. “Can I finish?” He asked. 

Lucio pouted, averting his gaze. “Okay,” he grumbled. 

“Thank you,” Julian said with an eye roll. He stood, looking to Lucio’s shoulder. He’d never seen such a speedy recovery and doubted he ever would again. There was no way this was natural. Unless...

“I don’t think this was a normal remedy,” he explained. “At least, not entirely.”

“Then what’s your diagnosis, doctor?”

Julian bit his lip. God, this was so _stupid._

“I think,” he said slowly, processing the words, “that there might have been some sort of... how’d you say it? Supernatural intervention.” 

Lucio’s eyes lit up in interest. “You suppose it’s magic?” 

Julian rubbed his temple. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve heard stories about magic and medicine. Although I’ve yet to see any.” 

Lucio knew Julian well. He was a man of science, and Lucio had heard many late-night drunken ramblings from the doctor about how hogwash the idea of magic was. So, to hear this revelation had Lucio grinning from ear to ear. He was giddy in his boots, swaying back and forth. This was hilarious. 

“What’s so funny?” Julian demanded over Lucio’s sudden fit of snickering. He folded his arms over his chest defensively. 

The captain caught his breath. He waved a hand dismissively at Jules. “I thought you were too, what was it, _intellectually advanced_ for fairy tales and magic.” 

Embarrassed, the doctor turned red, color creeping from his cheeks down to his neck. 

“W-well,” he started, “considering that I’ve been in the industry for a few years and I’ve never seen anything like this, it’s the only logical explanation!” 

“Or maybe you’re a shit doctor,” Lucio countered. Julian glared at the grinning captain, who raised his hands in mock surrender. “So, your plan is for me to overpower this, now magical, person?” 

Julian cleared his throat. 

“You’re strong,” he explained, gesturing to the wound. “Even with your injuries. If you wait for the right moment, you’ll be able to overpower this... _person._ ”

Jules wasn’t wrong. Not only was he strong, but Lucio was also a gifted swordsman. Being raised in such a brutal tribe like the Scourge of the South had its perks.

“And if they use magic?!” the captain asked with concern. “How do you suppose I compete against **that**?!” 

“I’ll stay up with Lieutenant Barth and keep watch,” he assured him. “We’ll capture the culprit before they can do any harm. God forbid they turn you into a toad.” 

Lucio laughed heartily at Julian’s jab. “Ha! Like I’d allow something like that! The gods blessed me to be this beautiful, it would be a great loss for humanity if I became a frog!” 

Julian didn’t even bother with a reply. He could smell the beginnings of breakfast wafting through the air, and someone had to have a pot of coffee on already. He still felt sluggish from a lack of sleep, but the coffee would make the day tolerable. And Lucio too. 

Lucio also smelt it, his stomach growling loudly at the prospect of food. With an unintentionally dramatic flourish, he pushed aside the tent curtain and proudly walked about. He could feel his appetite starting to come back, and with such reassurance, he hunted down a plate of eggs with predatory skill. His men stood straighter at the sight of their leader, all giving him respectful nods. He returned such gestures with a winning smile. Julian was right. He felt much better. Whatever, or whoever was behind this, he needed it badly. And he would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He always got what he wanted. 

***** 

The sun had long set when Lucio prepared for their ambush. Just as planned, he lied in his tent pretending to sleep. He kept a knife sheathed on his right leg, ready in case of an emergency. Julian and lieutenant Barth were waiting together in the medical tent, both equipped with the necessary tools. They’d warned the rest of the group earlier to keep an eye out for any intruders. The whole camp lied in wait. He had instructed for them to attack on his signal, and that he intended to take this stranger alive. He couldn’t afford to waste such a glorious opportunity. 

Lucio shut his eyes, breathing deeply. Nighttime sharpened his senses, and he focused on the sounds of the forest. Crickets, frogs, and owls galore provided peaceful noise. But even with the spirited hum of wildlife surrounding him, he was able to clear his mind. He was focused and listening closely, one hand on the handle of his knife. His surroundings faded away, leaving him acutely aware of everything happening around him. This was a skill he learned from his mother back when she took him hunting. He honed it, believing one day it’d come to use. It was quite handy for his line of work. Lucio loved being the predator, lying in wait for his prey to fall into his trap.

A branch snapped deep in the forest, but just near enough that he was able to hear it. It was followed by footsteps inching closer and closer towards camp. Lucio couldn’t help the smug smirk that played on his lips. 

_Let the hunt begin_ , he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted in a while, guys! Life got in the way and I couldn't upload this chapter until now. Hopefully, I'll be updating again this week.  
> 


	4. Caught

(Y/n) pushed back a leafy branch, creeping through the bushes. Dewy grass tickled her toes from in between her sandals. The satchel at her hip clinked quietly, her usual supplies jostled as she descended on the camp. Moving the brush out of her path, she tried to maneuver herself over it without making any noise. As lightly as she possibly could, (Y/n) stepped over the bush. 

It was a lively night tonight. Even though she approached alone, it felt as though the whole forest moved with her. It was alive around her, little critters milling about, rustling the foliage and scaling the trees. Her thick cloak muffled the noises of the night, but as she snuck closer to the campground, the distinct snap of a twig under her weight was heard loud and clear. _Oops!_

But nothing moved. There was no rustling, no shouting, no chaos. She was safe. _Thank Gods._ (Y/n) cursed herself silently. Sometimes she just seemed to be asking for trouble. After waiting for a reaction, she deemed the coast clear and kept moving forward. Finally, out of the forest, she tiptoed her way towards the regal red tent which housed her most recent patient. The air smells like smoke and ashes, the fire pits still housing glowing embers. 

She reached her destination, pulling back the door flap and slipping inside. Just like before, she lit her lantern, only risking a small flame. She kneeled beside her patient, who, already had more color in his face. (Y/n) pulled the thick cloak hood down, allowing herself to see better. Carefully, she placed her palm to his forehead, checking his temperature. The fever lingered slightly but wasn’t dangerous anymore. She let out a sigh of relief. She turned to his shoulder, which no longer bared her handiwork. It wasn’t much of a surprise, but it still irked her. Gently, she pulled back a few layers of wrapping. The man’s even breathing was warm on her arm. 

After pulling back a few more layers of bandage, she exposed his flesh wound. It no longer shocked his skin as a gash of red anger, but rather dulled a dark pink. She could see where the flesh was grasping to meet and close the hole. It wasn’t as far along as she’d expected, which was disappointing. But (Y/n) didn’t fret, instead getting to work on his next treatment. 

She turned momentarily from the blond man to rummage quietly through her satchel for the salve, leaves, and roll of bandage. She had rested properly today, so tonight she would be able to draw more magic out to heal him. Hopefully, this would be the last time he’d need her. She wasn’t ready to include these nighttime excursions as part of her daily routine. However, unbeknownst to her, a silver eye watched her quietly, taking in every move she made. 

******

_A woman?_

Lucio only dared to open one eye, sizing up his opponent. Her plum-colored cloak hid her form, making it difficult for him to gauge just how big she was and if he could overtake her. He hoped that she’d be compliant, but he wasn’t against using force. As brutish as he was, he’d never hurt a woman. He had morals, even if they were a bit twisted. He couldn’t see her face as she had her back to him. His hand had warmed the handle of the knife. Stealthily, he sat up, his form creating a dark shadow on the canvas walls. 

******

(Y/n) pulled her supplies out of the satchel one by one, laying each on the grass. The sound of the man’s even breathing and the soft thump of each item on the grass were the only noises, aside from the ones emanating from the forest. (Y/n) looked over the contents and hummed in satisfaction. She wet a clean cloth with the canteen of water. She adjusted herself to turn back to the man, ready to clean him up when she felt a large, hot hand tightly gripping her wrist. 

“Don’t move,” the man said lowly. 

_Oh no._

He was strong and warm, his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. Alarms were sounding in her mind. _Stay calm_ , she thought. _Just stay calm!_ This scenario could go one of two ways; she could escape and hide forever from this ungrateful schmuck, reflecting on this moment as yet another reason why she should never trust another human being again. Or he kills her for daring to have any sympathy for him, Gods forbid she care for another person. The second option didn’t seem as pleasant as the first. (Y/n) wasn’t content to die yet, too many things were left for her to do. She took a long, deep breath and prepared for what chaos would ensue. 

******

She wasn’t moving. Maybe she understood that he was stronger than her, that she’d be overpowered. Or maybe she was just too terrified to move. Lucio could be quite intimidating, with such good looks after all. Either or worked for him. 

“Listen,” Lucio said as calmly as he could. “I’m not going to hurt you, just come quietly and everything will be alrig-“ 

The response he received was an elbow that crashed into his nose. It was unexpected, to say the least. Caught off guard, he released his grip on both the knife and her wrist instinctively, instead cupping his now bleeding nose. As he felt blood begin to drip between his fingers, he watched in disbelief as she flipped the hood of her cloak over her head. She tried to scramble out of his tent, completely disregarding the items on the floor. Angry, he lunged for her ankle, desperately trying to stop her. But he was too slow, he barely brushed her leg. His chin slammed on the ground. Yelping and looking up, he saw she was already sprinting away. He growled, grabbing the abandoned knife that laid in the grass Infront of him. He stood and stumbled out the door after her. If she wanted a fight, oh boy, she’d get one.

“ **NOW!** ” He screamed. And like a hive of bees summoned by their queen, every tent roared to life as his company dashed out and about. They hunted her like bloodhounds, barking orders and chasing her tail. Lucio scanned the glade, spotting her retreating form weaving east through the throng of tents. He pointed, and declared, “AFTER HER!”

*******

(Y/n) dodged grasping hands and shining swords as she frantically tried to flee. Everywhere she turned, another body blocked her path, narrowing her window of opportunity. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she thought. _You’re just plain stupid, (Y/n)._

She was close, so close! Just a few steps further! But every time she reached the clearing’s edge, she was forced to turn back and run. She hadn’t run this fast in years. 

“Halt! Stop!” they shouted at her in pursuit. She could practically feel their bloodlust. She’d underestimated them, that was for sure. She thought they were simply a congregation, or maybe immigrants from another country. But _mercenaries?!_

Just her luck. 

(Y/n) ducked behind a tent, trying to lose the small group that was following her. In their blind pursuit, they didn’t see her desperately catching her breath as they ran past. Her lungs burned and her head spun. She needed to move fast. She started to run once more, turning a corner, only to be met with two large, agitated mercenaries. They wielded shining swords, eyes thirsting for blood. Obviously, they were not thrilled at their impromptu wake-up call. 

Slowly, she took a step back. “Uh, evening, gentlemen,” she tried. (Y/n) kept her palms up and continued to back up. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

They scoffed at her attempts. Her small talk did little to deescalate the situation. They walked towards her, closing in faster than she could move away.

“Look,” she reasoned desperately, grasping at straws. “I don’t want any trouble! Just let me go, and you’ll never see me again!” 

The larger one laughed humourlessly. “Sorry miss,” he said gruffly, without a hint of remorse. “Captain’s orders. He wants you. _**Alive**_.”

(Y/n) could hear her heartbeat loud in her ears. She was losing her cover; they were pushing her into the open. She had to act quick. The magic crept up into her fingertips. 

“Then you leave me no choice!” she cried. She threw her arms into the air. The pure white power leaped from her hands, and two adjacent tents toppled down on top of the men. She heard their confused yelps as she left. 

The tent debacle had attracted the attention of the previous pursuers. The men’s heads turned at the sound. They saw her, and shouting, charged after her. 

She turned again, only to be cut off by three more similar-looking men. She brought another tent down. They hollered from underneath the structure as she fled in the opposite direction. The same thing happened again at the next corner, and the next. 

Left with no other choice, (Y/n) backtracked, heading straight for the tent she’d escaped from in the beginning. She dared to look behind as the enraged soldiers pursuing her practically tripped over each other. They stampeded like horses, closing in on her. She could hardly see in the dark of night, having left her lantern behind, but she knew she was running out of time. She needed to act quickly. 

***** 

The odds weren’t in her favor, that was for sure. This wild bush woman was up against a group of the youngest and most skilled swordsmen Lucio had ever met. He had trained them himself, of course. 

And yet, she kept slipping through their grasp! She was fast, running wild like a chicken with its head cut off. But even so, she’d grow tired eventually. Besides, she was quite entertaining to watch. 

He plopped the lantern down to wipe his blood crusted hands on his pants. He didn’t need a mirror to know his nose was out of place. It had stopped bleeding, but he could feel its crookedness. Dried blood persistently stuck to his face. He rubbed it away with the back of his hand. 

He found Jules among the mess, also holding a lantern, standing outside the medical tent. Lucio strode over to him, the night air cool on his bare chest. In the mess of it all, he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Julian asked him, brow cocked at the display of muscle in front of him. Lucio smirked, striking a few poses and flexing his muscles. 

“Why, Jules,” he crooned, admiring himself. “Do you not like the view? Is my beauty too much for you to handle?” 

Julian rolled his eyes, ducking into the medical tent for a moment. He appeared once more, holding both a sword and shirt in his hand. He held the items out to Lucio in silent request, and the latter took them. The blond man shrugged the linen onto his shoulders, not bothering with buttoning it closed. All the night’s action had his blood pumping hot in his veins. Lucio still had his knife, which he exchanged for Julian’s sword. The metal warmed quickly in his feverish grip. 

“Did you see where she went?” Lucio questioned. 

Julian’s eyes widened in surprise. “She?” he said incredulously. 

Lucio nodded, smirking. “She,” he confirmed. 

Julian whistled, impressed. “I’ll be damned,” he said. He was about to inquire about Lucio’s crooked nose but was interrupted by Lieutenant Barth’s frantic yelling. 

“STOP! STOP, YOU CRETIN!” 

The captain and doctor both turned towards the noise. 

*****

The blond bastard was up ahead, a sneer on his face. While she was busy escaping an untimely death at the hands of some _very_

In a different scenario, (Y/n) could picture herself washing her laundry on those abs on a particularly hot summer day. Sure, it wasn’t the most efficient way of cleaning. But Gods, would it be enjoyable. Fantasies aside, she was determined to escape, and wreak as much havoc as possible in the process. She narrowly dodged a swipe of sword at her calf, zigzagging as she ran. 

A lantern. That’s it! The man standing beside the handsome, yet crippled schmuck was holding a lantern, it’s flame orange and glowing and the perfect opportunity. She began pulling all her energy to her hand, a fire-bright tingle engulfing her body. She had to make this big.

She charged straight towards them, his company in tow. 

__

******

__

Just how dumb was this woman? His men were closing around her, creating an ever-shrinking and inescapable from all sides. She was done for, even running straight for him! 

He couldn’t see her expression, her cloak hiding her from view. But he could just imagine the look of regret, of utter despair at her actions! She was desperate! Running towards him to apologize, no doubt. To beg for her life, maybe even beg to let her show him her regret in a more.... _physical_ way. He envisioned such an erotic thing, laughing and ignoring the questioning look Julian sent his way. 

__

Ah yes, no woman could resist his charms, his beauty. She would surely accept any conditions he gave her to spare her life. He could be merciful and play God. She was closing in on them, a hand outstretched, ready to plead for forgiveness. He pointed the sword at her, puffing out his chest and posing. 

__

“If you beg for mercy, I might just spare your life!” he shouted to her, voice deep and authoritative. He was so humble. 

__

A rogue gust of wind blew strongly, pushing back the cloak hood and letting it fall to her shoulders. He finally saw her face.

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And then his condescending demeanor contorted into uncertainty. His eyes followed her line of vision. She wasn’t looking at him, but Julian. Or rather, Julian’s lantern. He saw her gaze transfixed on the flame and when he looked back, her hand was suddenly captured in a glowing white light. The lantern began to flicker, and its fire grew. He predicted what would happen next. 

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“JULIAN!” He shouted, dropping the sword and tackling the doctor to cover him. Disoriented, the lantern flew from Julian’s grasp and into the air. It exploded in a burst of flame, illuminating the sky with orange light. Metal, glass, and fire rained from the sky, catching everything and everyone aflame. The attention turned from her to the firefight around them. Mercenaries shouted, stomping and patting the fire out on their tents, supplies, and each other. The horses were startled, whining and bucking. 

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It was anarchy. 

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Through all the dishevelment, Lucio crawled up from shielding the now winded doctor. He caught a glimpse of the magician escaping, almost reaching the safety of the forest tree line. He knew once she had cover, it would be impossible to track her down. Quickly, Lucio searched for a weapon, his eyes scanning the ground. A flash of steel caught his eye, reflecting the moon in its blade. 

__

He grabbed his knife and followed her. She was a few yards ahead; he could hear her triumphant laughter from his position behind her. He stopped to steady himself and lined up the shot. He had only one chance, so this had to be good. He pulled his arm back, ready, and threw it with all his might. The blade soared and shined through the sky like a shooting star. 

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*****

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(Y/n) laughed triumphantly. She did it! _So long boys_ , she thought happily. The brush was there, she was so close. The forest cried out to her; she could hear it! Victory! 

__

Her joy was cut short by a sudden intense pain in her leg. She stumbled, surprised, falling flat on the ground. The grass had begun to collect morning dew and was cold on her face. She cried out as burning throbs pounded her leg. She sat up carefully, trying not to agitate the wound. She clutched her leg. Something was caught.

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Her heart dropped when she saw it. 

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A knife was lodged deep within her calf, practically taunting her. From beneath it, red blood began to flow, staining the grass. She gripped the handle carefully and willed herself to pull it out. Taking a deep breath, she pulled and removed the blade. It stung, hot white pain filling her mind. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe as her thoughts became clouded with worry. Her hands were warm and wet as she clutched the hole, delirious with panic. She tried to bring forth some magic, any magic! But she was drained, and it didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. (Y/n) was starting to feel the exhaustion. 

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*****

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She was pathetic. Her cloak was draped over her body, giving her the appearance of a child wrapped lovingly in a blanket. She didn’t notice he had approached her, busy trying in vain to heal herself. He stood over her, watching her futile struggle to stop the bleeding. Finally, she looked at him. 

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“You’re not looking too good, sweetheart.” He chuckled sarcastically. He cracked his knuckles. 

His looming shadow cast her in darkness, but her eyes were so wide and bright. So desperate. So mysterious. She stared at him, terrified, like a wounded deer. She was feeling the pain, her breathing fast and shallow, on the verge of tears. This made what he did next harder than it should have. 

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She didn’t see him ball his hand into a fist at his side. She didn’t see him reel it back. When he punched her, her body slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A _thump_ , and that was it. He had knocked her unconscious, her face so calm in sleep, hands limp at her sides. Lucio felt a little bad since he didn’t like hitting women. But he needed her in his control. She was powerful, he’d seen it, and he wanted to harness such power for himself. He needed to. 

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Something felt wet, dripping down his arm. He felt a pang of pain and looked to his shoulder. It was bleeding, the healed skin was torn from too much movement. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t noticed. 

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“Huh, that’s not good.” 

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He flicked trickling blood off his fingertips and whistled. A high pitched, prolonged signal rang through the forest as he called to his men. Not a minute later, Lieutenant Barth appeared at his side with two other men trailing behind him. The captain spoke with casual authority, rolling his stiff good shoulder. 

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“Bring her to the doctor and get her cleaned up. If she wakes up, knock her out again.” 

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“Yes sir!” His underlings cried. They began to move towards the woman, but Barth stopped in his tracks at the sight of Lucio’s blood. 

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“Sir!” he exclaimed with worry. “You’re bleeding!”

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Lucio looked to his Lieutenant and gave him a tired cocky smile. “This?” he said. “This is nothing! You’ve seen me at my worst, Barth. Don’t worry about me.” 

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“B-but, sir!” the man protested. 

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Lucio motioned to the unconscious woman with a sideways nod. 

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“She has it worse than me. Go, quickly take her to Jules. We need her alive.”

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“Yes sir!” Barth cried to the captain.

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He grabbed a hold of her underarms, while the other two held her legs. They carried here away to Julian, talking amongst themselves about the damage she’d caused. Lucio watched them for a moment, then bent down in the blood-covered clover to retrieve the knife. Red dripped from the blade. His own reflection looked back, rugged and exhausted. An instinctive smirk played at the corner of his lips. Things were about to get interesting. 

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**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and kudos!! Your feedback motivates me to update faster!


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